The Very Cheeky Englishman

Of all the dating sites that I have tried, POF is certainly the worst. I’ve looked at it a few times and have always found that most of the guys can barely string a sentence together. But my friend Ms A was using it and convinced me to give it another look in.

Scrolling through the masses of degenerates someone catches my eye and we get chatting. Mr T has nice pics, he is tall (well 6 foot), has his own business, lives in a nice area, is 40, no kids, a non-smoker, has a coherent profile. Tick, tick, tick.

We chat a little online and exchange numbers. When I call the next day, I get his voicemail and I am surprised to hear an English accent. Oh no, I wasn’t aware of this fact. I didn’t leave a message, rather I jumped straight online to check his profile again. His teeth, I need to see the teeth!! In my experience I’ve met a lot of people from the UK with bad teeth, so I usually avoid them online unless I can clearly see the teeth situation from the pics. Don’t hate me UK readers…

Fortunately he is smiling in his pics, his teeth on full display, they are all there and they are perfect. Phew….

When Mr T calls back we chat for about half an hour and it’s non-stop laughter. He is hilarious. My cheeks actually hurt from laughing when we hang up.

We arrange a date for the following night. He arrives early and txts me whilst I’m still on my way into the city asking what I want to drink so he can have it waiting for me. I tell him that I’ll get something when I get there. First rule of online dating, don’t let them roofie you too easily…

When I arrive I call him to find him as the bar is really busy and I like what I see when I get there. He is very pleasant looking and he seems to quite like me…as he tells me. A number of times. Oh stop it Mr T, no go on, no stop, no go on…

We get a bottle of wine and it disappears fast. I try to buy the second bottle, but he won’t let me claiming that he is a gentleman and that just won’t do. When he returns from the bar which I am sitting with my back to, he swiftly leans down from behind my shoulder and kisses me saying that “he just had to do that”. Ok the cynical ‘I’ve dated a lot of douchey men’ side of me thinks oh what a tosser, but the quite tiddly side of me thinks he is quite lovely…and a good kisser. #winning

The second bottle somehow disappears too and we both need to head to the bathroom (separately of course…) and as we are walking along I notice that I seem a bit taller than him. He was meant to be 6 foot, I’m 5’10”, but I was likely wearing 3 inch heels so I expected a little difference, but this is more than an inch. Whilst wondering that thought he stops me and pulls me in for another kiss. Oh he finds me irresistible. Stop it Mr T, no go on, oh whatevs…..#YOLO.

We get a third bottle of wine and my previous fuzzy thoughts about it probably being a wise idea to get some food have dissipated. Who knows where that bottle goes, but all of a sudden I’m drunk. Drunk, drunkity, drunk, drunk!

Remember how cautious I was about not getting drugged and being incapable of fending off a dodgy internet guy earlier in the night? No? Me either…

After plenty of shameless public pashing it is time to call it a night. He walks me to the cab rank, kisses me and tells me that he really doesn’t want to send me home, but he knows it’s the right thing to do being a gentleman and all. See, he does have morals! He puts me in the back of the cab and then leans into the front window and hands the cab driver cash to take me home. What the hell? How old school. Indeed a gentleman. I’m kinda digging it…

He then proceeds to send me quite dirty txt messages all the way home…..well actions speak louder than words right? ;p

My Night with the Chicken Pot Pie

Superhero Businessman French Cityscape Concept

Hellooooo! Sorry, it’s been a while I know. I have been busy and just not in the mood to write lately. But tonight I’m in the mood to rant!

I was meant to go on a date tonight with a very sexy (supposedly) French man. We met on Tinder last week and after chatting for a few days on the app, I decided to give him my number and ask him to call so I could do the voice test before moving to a face to face date.

That call actually didn’t go well. When I answered he said hello and that it was ‘Mr A’. I responded with a ‘hey how are you?’

He must have misheard that as he replied with ‘you know I’m Mr A, we were just talking on Tinder, I live in…’ like I had so many Mr A’s that I had just given my number to that there could possibly have been some confusion. Okaaaaay….

The call continued and I could hardly understand him at all. I think he said that he had been in Australia for nine years, but his accent was very heavy. It was the awkward type of conversation where after you’ve said ‘pardon’, ‘sorry’ and ‘what’ and still don’t know what he said after three attempts that you do a little giggle and move on.  We cut the call short after discussing catching up soon and I couldn’t help but think I may need subtitles on the date.

By Tuesday we’ve agreed via txt to meet up on Sunday night. By Thursday we’ve agreed the meeting place and have been chatting some more, including him sending me some pics of the view of the Vivid light festival from his apartment with him suggesting that he would invite me over, but he understands that I probably wouldn’t be keen to do that on a first date. You think?

Sunday lunchtime comes and I shoot a txt over to him to confirm that we are still on for our date that evening. He replies immediately saying yes and reconfirms the meeting details for 5:30pm. It’s all sorted.

I start to get ready about 3:30pm as I’m planning on catching the bus into the city about 4:40pm. It’s one of those days when your makeup just works and you like what you see in the mirror. I’ve started doing my hair when my phone chirps from the bedroom a little after 4pm. It’s him.

“Hi SSIS, sorry for the short notice but I have to cancel, I apologise”

WTF?!? Late notice and no elaborate excuse as to why?! I expect to see an excuse of the calibre of my grandmother died, or my dog ate a tube of superglue, or I fell down the stairs and broke my face for pulling the pin so late.

I reply “Oh…” giving him the hint that I’m expecting more than that.

He replies “I am really sorry, but I am feeling like shit and tired”.

Tired? Tired!!! Everyone is fucking tired. All the fucking time. I just reply “Ok” and leave it at that.

I finish doing my hair, but decide that a night in is in order and also that I’m in the mood to cook. I pull out my Mum’s recipe for Chicken Pot Pies and head out to the shops to grab the ingredients.

Whilst I’m out I see a crazy cool sunset with the sky all sorts of pink and orange and the pies I made were pretty damn good if I say so myself. So perhaps it wasn’t all bad that my plans changed.

Frenchie continues to try and make himself feel better by justifying his sudden ‘illness’ sending messages that he has been in bed sleeping, that he had a big night last night and is really hungover, and that he should remember that he isn’t 20 anymore.

Whatevs dude. I unmatched him on Tinder…but with a tiny pang of sadness seeing he was smokin’ hot…

The Little One

Woman, showing small amount gesture with handLast week I started talking to an Irish guy on Tinder. He told me that he was new to the Tinder game and that he had never met anyone from the app before. He also asked if I wanted the great honour of being his first!

Yes, it was probably a line. Yes, it worked!

There was only one problem. After agreeing to meet, he then mentioned his height – 5’9″.

I’m 5’10” and I quite like wearing heels with a man! I was disappointed, but I’ve been asked a lot lately by my girlfriends if height was really that much of a deal breaker for me as they know some great shorter guys.

Well ok, I give in. It’s time to prove or disprove the importance of this item on my list.

We were getting along well on Tinder with really sparky conversation, then also on txt and we arranged to meet one night after work last week. Again I had left the phone screen round to the last minute and there seemed to be no time to squeeze it in before our date.

But on the day of our date, another aspect of my life took an unexpected turn and I decided to cancel as I needed to get some things sorted. I called him to postpone our date until later in the week. When he answers he has the sexiest Irish accent and I wish that I had called him earlier! He is completely fine with postponing the date, but he is about to travel interstate to visit family so we agree to meet for lunch on Tuesday this week.

He sends a couple of txts over the weekend and I’m quite looking forward to our lunch.

On the day I turn up at the restaurant bang on time (as usual) and he txts that he is a few minutes away. Grrrr….

When he approaches I can’t help but notice his height and he is definitely more than one inch shorter than me. As we know, men always add an extra inch.

We take a seat, he takes his sunglasses off and I notice that he is nice looking……but I also can’t help but notice that his teeth have likely not seen a dentist in about 10 years. Nor dental floss. Possibly ever. Ok SSIS, let it go….

We order and whilst we wait for our food he asks me a heap of questions. Eventually I get to ask him some and start with asking how his weekend interstate was. He tells me that it was good as he has a child who lives there and he got to spend a lot of time with them….

Kaboom! Seriously. You cannot drop the fact that you have a child into casual conversation like that!! And it gets worse.

The child is quite young and the result of a ‘short-term relationship’ with the mum. Okkkkkkkaaaaaaayyyyyy….

I half-heartedly listen to him talking about his family court battles whilst we finish our meal. Then it is time to wrap that shit up!

I left the date feeling annoyed. I believe there are 3 things that should always be disclosed upfront when dating. Based on my experience talking to both guys that I’ve dated and other single women, height, smoking status and kids are most often the deal breakers.

Oh and teeth. Ok, no, maybe that’s just me…

The One That Was a Little Too Refined

Winemaker with wine glass.

A few nights after the date with the one that was not quite refined enough I went on a date with a guy I’d met on RSVP. I have sworn off RSVP a number of times before as I’ve not had many good experiences with guys I’ve met from there, but for some reason I occasionally take a look again and sometimes find someone that catches my eye.

This guy was yet another Mr M and we had exchanged a few emails before moving to txt. Early in the week we arranged to meet for dinner on the upcoming Saturday night with him wanting to take the initiative to plan the date. Great, I like a take charge kinda man!

I had intended to put him through the phone screen round before Saturday, but I had a really busy week and was out every night leading up to the date. But I knew he was tall, worked in Finance and that he had a Japan holiday planned for early next year, which new psychic seems to think is a path to my soulmate, so what could go wrong?

On the night I arrive by taxi to the restaurant almost bang on time for our 7pm reservation. A couple of minutes past 7pm he txts me saying that he is running late, probably about 10 minutes. Great. This will not go well. Not only do I despise lateness, particularly on a first date, but it’s even worse when they don’t even bother to pre-warn of the lateness.

So I hang around out the front of the restaurant as its a tiny quaint little French restaurant that seats 16 people max (according to the review I had pre-read) and it would be really weird for me to wait inside alone.

He eventually turns up about 7:15pm and I give him a kiss on the cheek which is beard covered. Now, I don’t mind a beard at all, in many cases I quite dig them, but none of his pics had indicated that he had facial hair.

We go inside and are seated at a table so close to the couple next to us that we are pretty much about to have dinner with them. The place is run by an elderly French couple that run it entirely by themselves. He cooks, she serves. When the owner lady sees Mr M she gives him a funny look as he has gone to give her a kiss on the cheek, then she seems to recognise him and all is good. Apparently Mr M has been going to the restaurant for 10 yrs and they are old friends.

He introduces me and she tells me that she didn’t recognise him with the beard. She then asks me if I prefer him with the beard or without. Ummmm I don’t know lady, I can barely remember his name yet. With?!?

We order and open some wine that he has brought with him. He apparently loves the food here but also loves that it is BYO as he is quite the wine collector.

He has brought 3 bottles with him including a vintage champagne and two very old French reds. We start with the champagne and it is good. The entree comes and it is average.

When the mains come he opens up the two bottles of red (which he has pre-aerated at home) saying that one would work best with his duck, the other with my fillet mignon.

Then the night started to sour. He swirled the wine, sniffed the wine, then did this disgusting almost gargle of the wine. Then he ate some of his dish, then repeated the swirl, sniff, gargle process again. Ooooooooooookaaaaaaaaaaayyy. I think I’m on a date with a wine wanker.

This continued but he at least dropped the gargle step as the meal progressed. Across the table I felt compelled to do a little swirl and sniff the first time, but the sniff test was not all that pleasant. The taste test was worse. I tried the other red. That was even worse. They both tasted mouldy to me.

Throughout the night the owner lady is at our table a lot. Apparently they are old mates and he often finds her rare French wine. It’s awkward as I don’t know this guy at all and I’d prefer to be getting to know him than hearing from her on the first date.

We get dessert and afterwards the restaurant is emptying. We get the bill and because I’m not too sure I’m interested in him at this stage, plus it was quite a pricey meal and he brought the wine, I offer to go halves. He responded with ‘I’m happy to do whatever makes you comfortable’. Must say that’s one of the weirdest responses I’ve had.

We leave the restaurant and start walking up the street. Outside he seems far more relaxed and we laugh more than we have inside, so I ask him what he wants to do now as its only 10pm. He says he wants to show me his favourite wine bar.

We hail a cab and he does something really weird in that he jumps into the front seat. I get in the back and whilst he engages in a conversation with the taxi driver I curse myself for not bailing and check in with Ms E who is on security detail.

When we get to the wine bar, we are again greeted warmly by the owner. My date orders all this cheese and meat despite the fact we just had dinner and orders us some red. The owner returns to our table for a chat and Mr M who has brought the leftover wine with us (yes, me not finishing a bottle of wine at dinner – unheard of) asks the owner to try the wines and guess what they are. The owner is very charismatic and I enjoyed having him at the table for a while, but the game went on forever and I got bored and drifted from the conversation thinking about what I was going to watch on Netflix when I got home…

Eventually the bar is closing and we walk out to get a cab. Typically there are none to be had at that moment and we have to walk around in the cold and intermittent rain for about 30 mins. When we get one I say I’m happy to drop him off on the way home since it seemed unlikely we’d find 2 cabs.

Again he jumps in the front. Seriously WTF?!? So I sit in the back and check Facebook whilst we are stuck in traffic. The cab is deathly silent.

When we get to his place there is no kiss on the cheek goodbye or anything as logistically he ruined his propsects by getting in the front. So I wave him off and say ‘talk soon’ but I wasn’t sure I meant it.

I was reflecting on the date wondering if he was just trying too hard to impress and that’s why it was an average date when I get a txt from him. I actually quite expected it to be a ‘thanks but I don’t think it will work out between us’ msg, but no it was a lovely thanks and goodnight msg.

The next morning I wake up to a txt from him which was one of the weirdest txts I’ve had the morning after a date. It said that he’d forgotten to tell me last night that his favourite dog is a Labrador too (we had spoken about my childhood dog) and that he would like to have one, maybe two. Then he asked would I want a male or female. Hang on, I think this is all moving a bit too fast for me.

WTF?!? When I told a few of my gf’s about this they mostly responded with ‘what did you say he did for work again?’ When I responded with ‘finance’ most nodded their head like they suddenly understood. Apparently finance guys are well known to lack self awareness in these matters…

Great. My future husband will be clueless ;p

The One That Was Not Quite Refined Enough

Portrait of smiling worker in a reflective vest

After returning from my fabulous holiday I was keen to spice up my everyday life by getting stuck back into dating. I fired up the Tinder machine and worked on lining up some dates for last week.

Mr M’s profile on Tinder showed a man that was very much my type. Tall, blokey, good teeth…..except the last picture looked like he was wearing a shirt of the fluro orange variety. It was hard to tell.

But he passed the Tinder chat round, then the txt round, the phone chat round and so we lined up a date at a wine bar for one night after work. I recognised him immediately when I got to the bar (yay), we grabbed some drinks and found a table in a quiet corner of the noisy bar.

I had been the one to pick the bar after he said that I should ‘name a place and he’ll be there, anywhere’. I always prefer the guy to decide on the first date venue. Take the lead, show some initiative man! Turns out it probably would have been wise for him to have picked as the sexy dimly lit wine bar that I had picked probably wasn’t the best option to go to with a man who doesn’t really drink wine….

He was quite good looking though and had a cheeky smile. Conversation flowed easily and we laughed a lot, but there were various points along the way where I saw a few flashes of bogan come out. Now don’t get me wrong, I have flashes of bogan too apparently, but I think I hide them well until at least date 3 haha.

Over the next few hours we had a few more drinks and some dinner and then went for a drive to drop some keys off to one of his friends and to get some gelato. I wouldn’t usually jump in a car with a guy on the first date, but he seemed like a nice guy and I had my security check in place as always with Ms E remotely monitoring my movements for safety purposes!

Anyhoo, his car was some big work monstrosity. Not my style at all! It felt like we were in a truck. Hmmmm I guess that shouldn’t matter though…

Whilst we are driving his mate calls and he answers it on speaker. The mate goes ‘Hey man, how’d the date go hey, hey?’ to which I reply ‘it’s still going’. It was quite lucky that he asked that in a polite way! But listening to my date talk to his mate, he was turning more bogan by the second.

Then when we get to the gelato place Mr M mentions that he doesn’t really like gelato (ummm WTF?!?!) and decides not to get anything. Hmmmm why the hell did we go get gelato then?!? Yes, I know. We complain when men don’t do sweet lovely things for us, then we complain when they do….

He dropped me back to my car after the gelato and I gave him a kiss on the cheek and told him I’d had a nice time and that we should do it again soon.

He had sent me a txt by the time I got home thanking me for a fun night and suggested that we talk soon.

It was a good night, I enjoyed his company and I would be happy to see him again, but I won’t put any effort in to actively pursue him.

I doubt he is my future husband, or my mr right now, but he was definitely a fun date. I can’t complain about that!

I Met Someone on the Weekend

On Thursday I received a txt message that was rather unexpected. It was an invitation to a singles dinner event for this past weekend. I had long forgotten about this company and unsubscribed from their emails thinking I’d never bother with them again after my first dodgy dinner back in May last year.

I knew my membership was expiring in February, so this would be my last chance to go to an event and try and get some value out of my $500ish membership fee. I had a rare weekend ahead where I wasn’t that busy with uni, so I booked in and headed off on the Saturday night to a Lebanese restaurant to meet some men! 

So the basic premise of these things is that 3 girls and 3 guys turn up at a restaurant asking for a table booked under a certain name and you are then led to the table by a waitress as you obviously have NFI at that point what your fellow diners look like.

When I arrived, I heard the person in front of me ask for our table, so I join them and we are led to a corner booth-like table at the back of the restaurant where the 4 others are already seated. 

Conversation starts and within about 3 minutes I have decided that almost everyone at the table are rather intellectually un-stimulating. Oh crap, this will be a long dinner…. should I fake gastro and go home now?!?

One fellow diner shows some early promise though, but I’m stuck on the complete other side of the table to them.   

We order the banquet and being Lebanese food, I’m paranoid about getting greenery in my teeth well before any food hits the table. Honestly, could there have been a worse first date cuisine choice?!? Parsley, parsley and more parsley. Fuck you tabouli! And far too much communal food touching for my germ-a-phob liking….

Anyhoo as the night progresses I strike up some good conversation with the intelligent one, speaking across the table whilst the others talk about buttons, or something equally complex…

We discover that we are both foodies, don’t have kids, like tragic retro concerts, travel, nice cars. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick!!

We get talking about their business and it turns out that they work in a similar field as me and I want to know more, but then a belly dancer turns up and distracts us from the conversations (particularly the men…)

I sieze this opportunity to head to the bathroom to check that there isn’t a small forrest in my teeth and when I return I casually (yeh right) suggest that we mix up the seating arrangement and I join the intelligent one. 

Not long after, the belly dancer retires and we realise that we have all finished eating, finished our drinks and the buttons conversation has run its course.  We pay the bill and walk out the front of the restaurant to say our goodbyes. 

I fake that it was nice to meet the idiots and we all start talking about where we have parked. Almost everyone is parked down the street, but I’ve parked up the street and the intelligent one says that they too are up that way, so we’ll walk together. Sweeeeeeet….. 

We head off and have a good chuckle debriefing about some of the ridiculous and idiotic comments of the night. We get to my car and it turns out that the intelligent one actually didn’t drive, they caught a cab there but wanted to walk with me to ask me if I wanted to catch up again. 

When you book into these dinners, they tell you that to avoid awkwardness you shouldn’t ask this, or ask for phone numbers etc, but rather tell the organiser on Monday if you want to exchange contact details and if you both say yes, they will facilitate it. Inefficient!

We exchange numbers and discuss maybe catching up next weekend sometime as we are both pretty busy during the week ahead. 

I jump in the car and head home. Not a bad night all in all! 

It’s just a shame the intelligent one was one of the girls….. 

Oh well, one can never have too many Wingwomen right?!?

The One I’m Glad Didn’t Get Eaten by a Shark

I had plans tonight to meet up with a new guy from Tinder, Mr M. We’d been chatting online for about a week or so, exchanged phone numbers Thursday night after he asked me if I’d like to catch up, then we’d made loose plans to catch up Sunday evening over txt.

I had intended to speak to him over the phone before committing to a date as I like to do the voice test to check if they are a psycho before meeting, but I didn’t get around to it.

We hadn’t locked in a time to meet, but he told me that he was going diving today at Manly until about 3pm. For my non-Australian readers, there has been a recent spate of shark sightings and shark attacks of late, including a horrific attack on a dolphin just a few days ago. Yes, don’t go in the water kids!!! Anyhoo, today I saw a news story about a shark sighting at Manly beach and by about 4:30pm when I hadn’t heard from him, I couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he had been eaten by a shark on his dive. It would at least be a fair and reasonable reason for pulling out of our date….

But soon after that thought crossed my mind he sent me a txt asking what time I wanted to meet up tonight. I was feeling a little unenthused about heading out having not long woken up from an impromptu siesta in the sun on the lounge, and I realised that I had only seen one pic of this guy on his profile AND it was a black and white photo. That combined with having not put him through the phone screen yet, I was concerned this was going to be yet another disaster date. Honestly, you are not a rookie here SeriouslySingleInSyd! Get it together!!

I gave him a call to assess if I should pull the pin or not and he turned out to sound quite nice on the phone. We arranged to meet at 7pm at the Sydney Festival Village in the city. Mr M is from QLD and has only lived in Syd for 2 yrs, so I managed to sell it in as an experience he needs to have to be a true local, but really I was just desperate to go try the Messina gelato that look like savoury foods, but are actually sweet delights!

I got ready and headed into the city feeling more excitement for the gelato than meeting Mr. M. This was likely more a reflection for my deep love of gelato more so than my feelings toward Mr M though to be fair. Now I’ve mentioned before how much I despise lateness as I think it displays a selfish disregard for the other person’s time….but I miscalculated how long it would take me to walk to the festival from where I parked my car, so I was going to be a few minutes late…..which I let him know….but then it turned into 12 mins late as I kept getting caught at traffic lights. I kept Mr M updated on my progress and he taunted me with updates that Messina was about to run out of the Royale with Cheese Burger. Arrrggghhhhh running now……

When I arrived it was crazy busy and I was worried that I wouldn’t recognise him due to having seen just that one black and white pic of him and knowing that he was only average-ish height (6 foot). Walking into the festival I saw a rather awkward and unattractive guy standing near Messina and I thought to myself f*ck please don’t be him… So I called Mr M to make finding him easier and he found me immediately. I’m not too sure I would have picked him in a line up, but he was quite nice looking. Phew!

I kiss him on the cheek hello and we take a wander around the festival checking out the bar and food options before choosing a wine bar. We get some drinks and return to Messina as I want to check this ice cream burger out. I had already told him of my paranoia about them running out as I’ve heard that can happen quite early in the evening, so without seeing a sample we join the queue and I’m more excited about this burger than I ever was for Santa. I also tell him that I will cry like a little girl and perhaps even throw a tantrum if they are out of stock by the time we reach the counter. We get there and the two quirky dishes I wanted to try are still available and I am about to lose my shit in anticipation! And it was well worth the build up….


Pic: Messina Royale with Cheese Gelato Burger and Not Chicken and Waffles Gelato at Sydney Festival 2015.

We find a table and share both dishes (after he patiently lets me take numerous pics for Instagram) which could have been a little weird seeing we’ve just met 30 mins ago, but meh, it’s ice cream and we are washing it down with booze and booze kills all germs, so it’s all good!

The night progresses with a few more drinks, some amazing chilli fries (yes dinner after dessert) and lots of great conversation. It’s a great date and when we part he is upfront in saying that he has had a great night and that he would like to see me again. I agree and give him a brief peck on the lips and head off on my way. He has sent me a txt by the time I reach the car thanking me for a fun night and saying that he is looking forward to seeing me again.

So the week opened with a date with a douche, but ended with fancy pants ice cream and a gentleman. Gotta be happy with that!

The One With the Dreamy Blue Eyes

Guy with cute face

I had a date tonight with a guy with gorgeous blue eyes. Perhaps not Alaskan Malamute Husky level blue, but damn they were nice.

I met him on Tinder late last week. We’d chatted quite a bit on the app and he met my standard list of criteria – yes I am very upfront about this now and it seems to be working a treat (more about that later). He was 33 (like me), 6’5″ (deliciously tall), smart, successful (apparently), funny, cheeky. It was all stacking up to be a good date.

We met after work at a bar and he had warned me that he was rocking a holiday beard as he hadn’t needed to shave for a few weeks so he’d look a little different to his pics. I was expecting a bushranger beard due to the warning, but it was a nicely trimmed manly beard that I really dig. He actually looked better than his pics. Seriously, when does that ever happen. When?!?

We get some drinks and chat flows instantly and becomes progressively sparky and flirty as the drinks disappear. He suggests another round and something to eat and goes and orders for us. Whilst he is gone I txt my friend Ms E who is doing my online dating safety check tonight where I send her EVERYTHING i know about my date, where we are meeting, when etc just in case he abducts me, and tell her that he is freakin’ GORGEOUS! You know, just so the police get the identikit sketch of him right if the need arises….

Dinner is full of sexy eye contact, cheeky giggles and really great conversation. WTF. This is going a little too well you say! Wait for it…

There is some hand touching and that and all signs are pointing to him being pretty keen, but he seems rather gentlemanly about it. We leave that bar and head to another down the street with a little kiss or two along the way, but being a Monday night both places were relatively quiet. We have another drink at the next place and he is clearly trying to step things up a bit to encourage more kissing, but I’m driving home later so I’m nowhere near tiddly enough to find it socially acceptable to be pashing in a bar at 8:30pm on a Monday night.

So I tell him so. He then suggests that we go to my car to kiss as it’s parked nearby. Yup. Seriously. He. Said. That. FML.

I try and shut that one down as politely as I can and he is a smart guy so I assume he would get my subtlety when I say ‘no that’s far too high school’.

He responds with saying that we can go back to his place. Aaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnndddddd I’m out…..

He had paid for everything up to that point, so I get up and go to the bar to pay our bill for the last round. The cute European (of some description) barman says to me in an accent that I have NFI what it is ‘why are you so lovely and he is sitting over there and you are here paying?’

My thoughts exactly buddy! I return to the table. He gets up and in hindsight I now see that he likely thinks my haste to get the bill is my urgent uncontrollable desire to get his clothes off, but I walk outside with him following me and stop on the path and say ‘I’m off that way’ (i.e me, not we), kiss him on the cheek and say goodnight. He replies ‘oh ok, have a good night’ and I’m out of there.

Ms E then gets an update to modify the details of the police identikit sketch briefing to be sure to include a giant cock in the centre of ‘Mr Dreamy Blue Eyes’ forehead.

To Friend or Not to Friend, That is the Question

Hot key for friends

Recently I mentioned a guy that I had met on Tinder who I’d exchanged numbers with, but he was quite sick so it took a while for us to really get talking about meeting up. Once we did, contact accelerated quickly and he was texting and calling quite a bit. I was deep into uni work at the time and it was actually kind of sweet that he kept checking in with me to see how I was going and give me little study breaks.

On one of these breaks I was enjoying a glass (or two) of wine in the bath, which is one of my favourite pastimes (don’t judge me) when he called. It went to voicemail which states my full name and he left a message saying something along the lines of “Hello Ms <inset real name here>….” Later when I called him back it was quite obvious that he had looked me up on Facebook and that my privacy settings had become a little lax as he was talking about photos I’d posted that day!

It was weird, but it wasn’t like he had stalked me to find me surname as per Mr Creepy. He moved on to putting shit on me for my habit of drinking wine in the bath and I jokingly replied with “well I’m a Pisces you see, so it’s written in the stars that I love water”. He then revealed he was a Pisces too and when I asked him what date, he said exactly the same date as my birthday. I instantly felt creeped out thinking he is messing with me as it must be on my Facebook profile too and that I’ll really need to lock that sucker down! But he sent me a pic of his licence with his address cropped out and it turns out he did have exactly the same birthday as me, just 2 years older. For my birthday this year my girlfriends who I see the psychic with every year bought me an astrology book about which star signs are supposedly a good match for each other. Turns out Pisces and Pisces is the worst combination, so I guess it was destined to never work out with this guy! You can’t fight astrology right?!?

That conversation also turned bad for two other reasons. First, after 2 glasses of wine I was a little loose lipped and for some reason told him that I write a dating blog. He searched for it with very little detail from me, found it and read the whole thing before we met, giving him far too much insight into me without needing to get to know me! Unfair advantage.

The second bad thing was that he Facebook friend requested me on that call and tried to get me to accept. Yes some parts of my page were public, but not much and I thought it strange to Facebook friend request me before me met. But it did get me thinking when is the right time to Facebook friend request someone?

You can learn a lot about someone from their Facebook page. What lame internet memes do they find funny? Are they really single? Do they have kids they have conveniently omitted from the conversation? And important life issues like if they wear Crocs, or listen to Roxette (which the latter would make me instantly fall in love with them – it’s been retro week in my car this week and it’s been all Roxette, INXS and George Michael. I’m ridiculously cool…..)

But when is the right time to open up this insight? I’ve unfriended a number of guys that I perhaps prematurely connected with before realising that they were a tool. It feels so petty to ‘unfriend’ someone, but if you’ve finished dating, you might as well cut them loose.

I ignored the Facebook friend request until after we met. We caught up at local wine bar and he was good looking, cheeky and flirty. We had a couple of glasses of wine, ordered some pizzas and hung out in the cute courtyard garden for a couple of hours. It was a great date, non-stop chat, some leg touching and a little kissing. Eventually it was time to head off, he paid the bill (saying that he knows I like that from my blog) and he walked me to my car. There he seemed to be trying to ramp up the kissing, but I shut it down and got in the car to go home.

We exchanged some messages that night, I accepted his friend request and went to bed. The next day we txted a little more, but he said he was feeling a bit tired and unwell again. Over the next few days there were a couple of messages, but nothing particularly interesting and it just fizzled out. So I unmatched him in Tinder and unfriended him on Facebook.

What happened? Was it that I relentlessly post food porn on my Facebook which makes people too hungry?? Probably not. Mostly with great first dates that go nowhere I assume that it’s because the guy was playing his A game for some action that evening and if it doesn’t happen he disappears. So let’s go with that. No skin off my nose…onwards and upwards!

The One With the Lazy Eye


This is an old story too. It’s also a great cautionary tale about the perils of alcohol and trusting your friends to help you select a man.

I think this was the weekend of my 22nd birthday. I was out at ‘the local’ with a group of friends and the drinks were flowing fast. In those days I loved being one of (if not THE) first on the dance floor (tragic I know), but once the floor started to fill I would scan the guys out there assessing if they:

1. Had moves like Jagger; and
2. Could make eye contact with me above the sea of jockeys short people.

I was always quite forthright in my approach back then so I found what I thought was a catch, lured him in and started dancing with him. When I caught sight of my friends they looked quite alarmed. Apparently their eyes were performing better than my vodka glasses as this dude was OLD!

So I cut him loose and moved on. The dancefloor was full of ugly shorties, but then in the distance I spotted a tall blonde. He had the moves and was wearing a bright blue shirt, so he certainly got my attention. I made some sexy eyes at him to beckon him over, but then decided now was not the time for subtlety. I reached out my arm whilst making eye contact, pointed at him and then gave him the ‘come hither’ finger.

He glided across the dancefloor like he was in a boy band video, wind machine and all. We start dancing and he is good! You know what they say about men that can dance right….

Being once bitten, twice shy already that evening, I wanted my friends to give me their opinion. Whilst dancing with him I asked them for a thumbs up or thumbs down behind his back. It was a resounding thumbs up!

The night progressed with more dancing and drinking and eventually the club closed. We were keen to kick on, so we all headed back to our friends place who lived nearby and a good time was had by all….

In the morning however things didn’t look so good. We were all in a world of pain and gathered in the lounge room to fill in the gaps from the night before. But something was very different now.

My new friend looked different than he did the night before. No longer boy band cool, he was looking at me whilst talking to me, but he was also looking the other way. Yes, there was a lazy eye situation going on. A bad one.

Confusion spread across the faces of all my friends, except Ms E who somehow did not notice!! How did we not see this the night before? Did it happen in his sleep? Did the alcohol correct his lazy eye? The world was not making sense.

He was also rather annoying. He was a bit overfamiliar with us for someone we had known for about 12 hrs and far too affectionate for my liking as I was not digging him at all.

I suggested he call a cab to get home, but he resisted. I wanted to go home and I couldn’t leave him there with my friends, so I decided to drive him home as I had left my car at my friends place the night before. I intended to just drop him at the kerb outside his house, but he would not get out of the car until I popped inside with him. Grrrr ok…

Once inside he shows me a photo by his bedside in the sharehouse he lived in with about 6 other guys. It’s of his 1yr old daughter to which he says “did I not tell you about her last night?”

Hmmm who the fuck knows really?!?

Then I tell him I really must he going. He asks for my phone number and I was tempted to give him my usual fake number where I swapped the last two digits around. That made it easy to remember so I could always say it confidently and it wasn’t obvious that I was faking. I pity the poor person with that number back then. They likely had a lot of messages for me….

But this dude was a bit cray-cray, so I gave him the real one. Lucky I did as he said he wanted to call it before I left to make sure he has the right number and could contact me. He also said that it was great we met on my birthday as we’d always remember our anniversary. Ooooooookaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy….

I think I burnt rubber as I drove away from his place. He was relentless in his chase after that calling multiple times a day, but he eventually gave up after a few weeks.

I wonder what ever happened to that poor lazy eye guy??